Golden Fluid Acrylics. Faber Castell Pitt Artist Pens, Prismacolor Watercolor Pencils
Out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down
in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
- even the phrase “each other” -
do not make any sense.
This painting was inspired by the above poem, the prompt for InspireMeThursday this week. I think it's a pretty literal interpretation of the poem, actually and not much is needed for interpretation.
But it was not easy to paint. I wanted it to feel kind of dreamy, because it is about a concept, not about an actuality, but I also didn't want it to be too vague. Plus, I had issues with the male figure. For a while, it just looked like a chalk outline at a murder scene. Not really the idea I was going for. And of course, a little house was added in last. I have houses on the brain, I guess. It asked to be put there, though. When I was almost done, that blank hill wanted a house, so I obliged.
Here, FG is wearing a white sundress and leather wrap sandals and red beads. I wonder if the way FG is dressing up is a reflection of my returning attention to style? I don't dress like that, it's far too unpractical with peanut butter smeared hands about, but I wouldn't mind playing with clothes and shoes and jewelry again. I think I am beginning to. I guess FG is too. It makes her less conceptual, I think, and more real. That's not a bad thing. But I'm not bound to the idea of fashion Flying Girl. Sometimes it's okay to just be a shadow, or an aura, and not wear a flower in your hair.
Flying Girl in the Tree Tops, or Silhouette
The Big Draw #11
Black Pen, Golden Fluid Acrylics
And here she is, back to a shadow. I like this one. I have always loved silhouettes, the way branches or lamp posts or buildings are shadowed against a sky. This drawing is a conglomeration of many ideas. First of all, the background is from days ago, when I had mixed too much paint for another FG and didn't want to waste it, because I'm cheap... uh, thrifty. So I covered a blank page with what was left, figuring I could come back and fill it in. Even though I often don't come back to an old page in my journal. I am always going forward.
But then, my kids were watching the Disney version of Robin Hood (with the foxes as Robin and Maid Marian) and for one shot, they were in the woods, and all you could see was this pattern of silhouetted leaves behind them. I gasped. How lovely. And filed the idea away in my brain for a time when I needed something to do. Then, as I was flipping around in my journal, there was my sky, painted already for my branches to be outlined against, and I just started drawing.
It's kind of shaky and smudgy. I did most of it while watching the kids, so I was often interrupted and sometimes being climbed upon. My hand picked up the wet ink and transferred it to the clean page. The lines wiggled about and there often spaces where there shouldn't be.
But you know what? That imperfection really goes with who I am. Not only am I a recovering perfectionist who needs to remember that nothing is perfect and good enough is often just dandy, but I also really like the lived in and loved in look. I like battered things. Things thrown out to be salvaged by someone else. Things bent and aged with finger prints. Not fixer uppers, things with character and personality.
This is a drawing that could not have been done by Disney's studios. Too messy. It could not have been done by a computer. This is done by an imperfect hand with much else to do. If I left a fingerprint on it, it's because it is who I am.